Memories
by Chi Takara
Summary: Some memories are too powerful to forget no matter how painful they may be. Italy x Germany, HRE theory
1. A Picnic in Austria

It was a rare day. Italy almost never went somewhere outside his borders unless he was attending a world meeting or going to visit one of his fellow nations. Yet today he stood right at his border looking at the beautiful rolling green hills of Austria. It had been a long time since he last visited the country and the sight before him was almost enough to make him forget why he was there. The day was sunny and warm. Italy gripped his picnic basket and crossed the border. The wind gently blew through his hair and he smiled softly as he left his country behind.

Despite the gorgeous day, Italy was not running through the hills chasing butterflies as he normally would. Though he would never tell anyone, occasionally certain memories came to the surface and he would be thrown into melancholy. The other nations would not expect such a thing from him, and whenever Italy felt the sadness welling up he would leave the other nations behind so he could remember. He always returned from these trips happy and the other nations never suspected anything was wrong.

Italy reached the top of a hill and set down his basket. The silence and peace of the day was enough to ease the pain in his heart a little and he worked to maintain the soothing quiet as he opened the basket and laid a blanket on the ground. It was lunchtime, but the food remained unpacked as Italy lay on the blanket looking up at the sky.

 _'The clouds are white, fluffy, and all different shapes today.'_ He thought as the clouds drifted overhead. _'That one looks like a butterfly, that one looks like a duck, and that one…'_ Italy stopped to ponder for a moment. _'There are those two bits poking out from the smallish circle at the top that is connected to a slightly larger circle.'_ He tilted his head to the right and to the left but something was not right until a gust of wind brought two tiny clouds drifting just below the larger circle. A large grin broke out across his face. ' _That's it! It looks like a bunny. A slightly deformed bunny, but…'_ In an instant the grin was gone.

Italy felt as though he were years younger looking at a painting of a strange rabbit with deformed feet. Bright blue eyes stared at him as the wind blew and lifted the edge of his skirt.

Pain was a constant for Italy. Every time he thought about his young years at Austria's house the pain sliced through him. Each time Italy thought about bright blue eyes and blond hair topped by a black hat the agony nearly tore him in two. Italy had waited for so long. When he had been left behind so his love could go fight France's crazed boss, Italy never imagined his love would not return. Yet in 1806 news of the Battle of Austerlitz reached Austria's house. Italy had never been tortured but when he remembered that moment as his heart ached and breathing became nearly impossible that was what he figured torture would feel like.

Italy could not stop the tears from falling down his face. _'It's been so long, Santo Roma. I know you're never coming back yet I still wait for you.'_ Italy rolled onto his side, drawing his knees up to his chest. _'Whenever I think of you it is as if you had just left, taking my push broom with you. Sometimes I even think I can still feel your lips gently pressed to mine.'_ The sobs shook Italy's small frame but he refused to make a sound. _'In any of those times you ran from me did you ever consider there might be a day when you could no longer see me? You ran so many times; if you hadn't run we could have had that much more time together. Now I'm running after you even though you're so far away that I can't even see you anymore.'_

Italy's hands curled into fists as anger surged through him. _'We could have been happy. We should be together now, laughing as we have a picnic together. That will never happen, will it?'_ Italy lay there until the sun baked his tears dry. _'It's been so long, Santo Roma. For over two centuries I have waited for you. Though, I suppose this is nothing compared to the nine centuries you loved me without my knowledge.'_ Italy smiled a little as his breath hitched in his chest. _'All I want is to smile and laugh with you even though I know such a thing will never be. Still, another day sitting by our easels drawing bunnies would be nice.'_

Italy slowly cracked open his eyes and sat up, rubbing salty residue from his cheeks as he did so. The day was still as beautiful as when he climbed the hill and though sadness was still weighing him down, he felt better than he had in a long time. He saw the basket sitting next to him and his stomach growled.

"Pasta!~" Italy exclaimed as he grabbed the basket. At the shout dozens of butterflies took flight from a field of flowers at the bottom of the hill. Italy's smile returned even as his hands shook while unpacking the two lunches from the basket. _'Wherever you are, Santo Roma, I hope you're happy.'_

Italy hummed to himself as he ate his pasta. _'I wonder what Romano is doing today? I didn't tell him where I was going, or even that I was leaving. Hopefully he was fine today by himself.'_ He set the empty pasta container next to him and watched the butterflies flit from flower to flower. Italy giggled as one flew away from its fellows and up the hill toward him. It landed softly in his hair and Italy's eyes shut for a brief moment as the last of his melancholy left him.

When his eyes opened the butterfly was gliding away, back towards the field and its brethren. "Hey, wait for me!" He called as he chased the butterfly down the hill. _"Funny, this side of the hill is steeper than the side I climbed earlier.'_ Italy thought moments before he lost his footing and careened down the hill. "Waa!~" He yelled as he tumbled. When he finally stopped moving he found that he landed had on his chest, knocking all the air from his lungs. He coughed as his body tried to return oxygen to his system.

"Are you all right?" The question was spoken softly, yet it still startled Italy. He opened his eyes to find he'd landed at the feet of a person with black boots. The sun obscured most of the figure except for grey pants tucked into black boots and the outline of a dark coat.

 _'Santo Roma?'_ Italy thought as the figure began to crouch down. The hope filled him instantly even though he knew his love was dead. Yet after living in his memories for the past several hours as he walked to the border and reminisced over misshapen bunnies, he could not help but imagine that his deepest desire was about to come true.

"You really should be more careful, Italien." The figure was crouched by Italy, revealing the coat to be blue, not black.

Italy's heart constricted with pain as he recognized the nation whose borders he had crossed without permission. "I'm sorry, Austria." Italy could not hide the tears once again sliding down his face, but he could not entirely lose face in front of his fellow country. "I'm sorry that I'm so clumsy and that I always make a mess. I'm sorry that I crossed your border without permission. I'm sorry the butterflies distracted me. I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me for crossing the border!~" Italy wailed, redirecting his pain and using it like a shield.

Austria sighed and the sound of disappointment made Italy cringe and curl into a ball on his side. "Why do you always get into trouble, Italien? You aren't little anymore. You need to take care of yourself."

Italy cried harder, remembering a day long ago when a little boy stretched out his hand and proposed they become a powerful empire together. "I'm sorry, Austria!~" Italy wailed as he forced the memories away.

Austria paused and then sighed again. "Come on Italien, let's get you back up this hill and across the border." Italy hiccupped in response as he tried to stop his tears.

Austria rose and offered his hand to Italy. Italy took his hand and was pulled to his feet. "Sorry to trouble you, Austria." Italy said as he wiped the tears from his face.

Austria said nothing and started up the side of the hill. Italy followed morosely. _'For just a moment I let myself truly hope even though there he is gone and there is nothing left to hope for.'_ The pain Italy felt in his heart melted as his tears stopped. _'Now I've angered Austria. Hopefully he won't be too mean.'_

Austria made it to the top of the hill and looked down the hill, past Italy, at the field of flowers where the butterflies still flitted about. Italy finally made it to the top, panting from the exertion and collapsed onto his blanket. Austria stood still as a beacon, staring into the distance as though it hid a secret he sought.

Italy followed his gaze and realized why Austria stared at the flowers with such sadness. _'Perhaps we are here for similar reasons.'_ Italy smiled sadly at the thought. "Ungheria really loved flowers, didn't she?"

Austria did not move when the question was voiced, though Italy knew it had been heard. For once in Italy's life he decided to leave the grieving nation in peace. He put away one empty lunch container and one full lunch container and folded his basket, shutting his basket with a quiet snap.

Austria turned then and regarded the nation who was already turned to leave. "You brought two lunches, Italien." The slight accusation was enough to make Italy want to run far away.

"I always bring two lunches with me when I go on picnics." Italy turned back and smiled at Austria. "Just in case I run around too much and need a second lunch." He tilted his head in a carefree manner, yet his heart pounded with dread at the thought that Austria knew why he was here.

Austria stared for a moment and looked as though he might say something. Finally he turned back to his flowers. "Don't get into too much trouble crossing the border, Italien"

Italy smiled. _'He knows, but I spent enough years under his care with Santo Roma that Austria would never say a word about why I'm here.'_ Italy turned and ran down the hill, laughing all the way as his momentum kept him upright. He walked toward his border knowing he wouldn't be back for a while. _'Santo Roma, you may not be here but we all remember you. No one whose life you touched will ever be able to forget you.'_ The last trace of pain left from his moment of hoping Austria was Holy Rome slipped away leaving the Italian with a true smile. Italy didn't look back as he crossed the border into his own country, land that had once belonged to his beloved that now belonged to him. _'Don't worry, Santo Roma, not only will I never forget you, but I'll wait because you made me a promise and you never broke a promise.'_


	2. Holy Rome Lives On

The world meeting was not going well. France and England were arguing like crazed men. Yelling at each other, even though they sat next to each other in the midst of the European nations.

"At least I'm not a wine-loving fool!" England shouted.

"Well at least I never looked like a little punk!" France replied forcefully.

This had been going on for a while, with the two nations yelling insults back and forth. Despite similar arguments before, this one seemed unusually heated. Even Italy noticed the intensity and had managed to wedge himself as close to Germany as the arms on their two chairs would allow.

"You're such an ugly frog." England practically snarled.

France's face contorted. He was always careful about his looks and England knew better than to insult them once they were in the middle of a fight with defenses raised. "You killed her." France's voice had lost its volume, but its intensity had everyone on edge.

"Huh?" England frowned for a second.

That split second was all it took. "Jeanne! You killed Jeanne!"

England's face became unnaturally pale as he realized how serious the fight had gotten. "France, perhaps-" He never got the chance to finish.

"You forgot." France's voice was somehow controlled, but all it took was a glance at the nation to know how upset he was. "How could you have forgotten? On today of all days, the anniversary of her death."

"France-" It was Spain, trying to intervene.

"No! Little Angleterre killed her. It's been nearly six centuries and he's forgotten." France's eyes darkened. "I'm sure that's not all he's forgotten with all those years of drinking until memories removed themselves from his head."

"How dare you." England's voice contained a quiet fury that made nations cringe and Italy shake in fear.

"How dare I? You were the one who killed her and then forgot her!"

"You've killed before, France. Death is nothing new, especially for humans. Jeanne de' Arc was human and her death was inevitable."

"Non! She should not have died on that day and not in such a way!"

"At least I didn't kill one of us." England spat.

France's eyes widened as he remembered a small nation on the ground in front of him and his boss Napoleon ordering the child's death. France started to shake. "We are countries and it was war. We must all obey our bosses, oui?"

"Do you think Holy Rome would agree with that?" Sudden silence filled the room after England made his pronouncement.

The silence lasted for five seconds as England and France stared each other down and the other nations watched in horror. A sudden screech broke the silence as Italy's chair was forced back. Everyone turned to look at the shaking nation who'd stood up.

France looked at his younger brother and could feel only pain and shame as Italy ran from the room with a cry.

"Italien!" Germany attempted to stand but was stopped by Austria, who sat on Germany's other side.

"Let him go. You won't be able to help anyway."

"How do you know that, Österreich?" Germany demanded of the Austrian.

"Well for one, you look too much like…" Hungary paused and closed her eyes, " _him_." Germany stared at her, sitting on Austria's other side. She had bowed her head.

"I doubt he'd listen to any of us right now." Austria said.

"He'd listen to me! I'll be the hero and go cheer him up!" America jumped out of his chair and began to run. His jacket was caught by England as he passed and the younger nation fell to the floor.

"You don't understand, America." England's voice was soft. "You declared your independence from me only thirty years before he died. You don't remember him and that would only hurt Italy more."

Germany was in pain. He had been born in 1815 as the German Confederation, nine years after the death of the Holy Roman Empire. He'd grown fond of the little Italian over the years and not being able to help Italy felt like a knife to his chest. "So what do we do?" He asked.

"We wait." Romano spoke, eyes closed and leaned back in his chair. "My brother may be emotional when Santo Roma is mentioned, but he always comes around."

"This is all my fault." France sobbed, not moving from his chair.

England looked at him with pity. "I was the one who said his name."

Silence reigned in the room for a moment. "Perhaps we should take an hour's break to recompose ourselves." Japan said. All the nations looked at him for a moment then began to disperse from the room with no argument.

Germany and Romano stayed where they were. They knew they would try to find Italy if they left and seeing him hurt would only upset them.

Japan quietly strolled out of the room. He'd spent a lot of time with Italy and Germany and knew Germany would not be happy until Italy was smiling again. Japan walked down the hallway but stopped when he heard sniffling in a nearby closet. He paused, knowing that he would have to be calm when facing the emotional Italian. He raised his fist and knocked. There was a yelp from within the closet that made the nation smile for a moment at the familiarity of Italy's action. "Italia, may I come in?"

There was no acceptance from within, but Italy had not denied him either so Japan opened the door. Italy was sitting on the floor of the closet, his knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and he was shaking. Italy was the picture of a broken child. Japan saw that there was room for two in the closet as long as he sat like Italy. He stepped inside, shut the door and sat down next to the Italian, wondering what had possessed him.

There were a few moments of silence, before Japan decided he only had an hour break to work with. "It's very painful to lose someone you care about."

A sniffle was heard in the darkness. Then Japan heard heart-wrenching sobs. The other nation threw his arms around Japan's shoulders, Italy's face pressed against his arm as he sobbed. Japan sat still and let his friend cry out his pain.

 _'I should never have let him leave.'_ Italy could not control his thoughts. His rational mind knew he could not have stopped Holy Rome, even if he'd tried but his rational mind was not what was controlling him at that moment. _'I should never have let him leave alone. I lived in his house. I could have gone to war with him. When I was even younger than I was then I'd fought Turkey by myself. Why did I let him leave? Why did I let him leave_ _ **alone**_ _.'_

Italy could never control his tears when Holy Rome was involved. Even though he tried to keep up a good face around all the other countries, Japan's presence could not dam the flood of tears. _'Once upon a time I was strong. I could fight and I wasn't scared. When did that change?'_

Italy was slowly falling to pieces. He could see his little hand holding out a push broom, offering a token of remembrance instead of help fighting. Holy Rome had blushed. Their one kiss of parting was seared into Italy's soul and was slowly burning it. He always knew that eventually there would be nothing left. _'Now was is good a time as any to fade and give Romano complete control of our united Italy.'_ Even though the thought was supposed to calm him, all it did was bring more tears.

 _"I have loved you since the tenth century."_ It was nothing more than the whisper of a memory in the back of his mind, but Italy froze. _"I'll wait for you! No matter what I'll wait!"_ His foolish younger self had promised as his love walked away.

 _'It only took me two centuries to get tired of waiting. I'm such a failure. He waited nine centuries to tell me he loved me.'_ The tears finally started to slow. _'What would he do if he returned and found I'd given up and faded. Not to mention how angry Romano would be if he had to do my job and his. He might even get Inghilterra to curse me.'_ A slight shudder passed through Italy as he imagined England cursing him. _'Giving up is the easy way out.'_ Italy finally calmed, his sobs coming out as hiccups instead.

"Are you feeling better, Italia?"

Italy knew he was latched onto Japan, but Japan hadn't spoken yet and Italy thought the other nation was only there to silently hold him. "A little, Giappone."

Japan smiled softly at hearing his name in Italian. He'd gotten used to it over the years, but it still made him happy, though he'd never tell the Italian that.

Italy sniffled and release Japan, hugging his knees once again.

"The funny thing about loved ones is they never leave us." Japan's voice broke the pleasant quiet and made Italy jump. "They always live on as long as we remember them."

"I know." Italy's voice was ragged from crying. "That doesn't mean I don't want him here."

Japan felt his friend's deep sadness. "We all lose someone at some point in our lives. Yours came young. Rōma Teikoku and then Shinsei Rōma left you, but you survived and proved you were strong enough to overcome the pain."

 _'I'm not strong. Even the thought of Santo Roma hurts. Picnics in Austria help, but only for so long and then I have to go back._ ' Italy's silent musings were causing tears to form in his eyes again.

Japan took Italy's silence as a sign he should continue. "Besides, I don't think Shinsei Rōma is truly gone."

Italy felt all the tension in his body release. "What?"

"What happened to Shinsei Rōma's land after he disappeared?" Japan asked.

Italy stared through the darkness, trying to see his friend. "I got some of it, but a lot of it belongs to Germania."

"So without Shinsei Rōma's disappearance, Doitsu never would have existed and you never would have met him. Shinsei Rōma may never have returned, but Doitsu is his descendant and he has protected you for years."

Italy pictured the two countries, one small with beautiful blue eyes, the other tall and strong with the same eyes, just harder and filled with unspeakable pain. _'They might as well be a young Germania and a grown Germania.'_ The idea made Italy frown. _'Or a young Santo Roma and a grown Santo Roma.'_ His treacherous mind thought. Italy shook his head to remove the thought. _'Santo Roma is gone. He said he'd return and I promised I'd wait for him. Germania is his descendant, like Giappone said. They are not the same. No matter how similar they look I can never confuse one for the other. I must wait for Santo Roma and I must remember that Germania is my friend. They each deserve to be remembered and acknowledged as themselves, no matter how similar they look.'_

"Thank you, Giappone." Italy murmured.

Japan smiled, happy his friend was doing better. "We should return to the conference room. We took an hour break and the other nations will be gathering again soon."

"Ok." Italy was still subdued, but it didn't bother Japan and he slowly stood and opened the door, holding out his hand to help the Italian get up. Italy scrubbed his face with the cuff of his jacket and took Japan's hand. Neither spoke as they walked back to the conference room.

Italy took a deep breath when they reached the door and then nodded when Japan looked at him. The door opened and Italy saw Germany seated directly in front of him. A smile appeared on his face. "Germania!~" Italy called as he ran to the other nation and hugged him before any protests could be voiced. For a brief second Italy was happier than he'd been in centuries. _'Santo Roma may not be here, but he sent Germania to protect me, just like Giappone said.'_ It would never be the same, but in that moment it was enough.


	3. An Old Push Broom

The envelope was plain white, and shouldn't bother him and yet it did. Germany stared at the mail in his hand and knew only trouble would come of this. How could it be anything else when that idiot America had addressed something to his home? Germany sighed and felt the beginnings of a headache, but he sat at his desk and opened the card anyway. Surprisingly the card was not on red, white, and blue paper, which would be characteristic of the nation who had sent it. Instead it was simple white cardstock and yet it was enough to make Germany groan.

 **The hero America invites you to an end of summer costume party!  
At his house on August 6, 2015  
I hope to see you there!  
P. S. Your costume should have something to do with your history.**

 _'Only Amerika would come up with this. An end of summer party for the nations who did not all experience their summer season at the same time.'_ Unfortunately, it was too late to return the card to the envelope and pretend he hadn't seen it. He also knew not showing up would offend America. His boss would be so angry at him if he upset America. It always grated at him that the immature nation was actually older than him. America's independence of 1776 happened before the 1815 agreement by the Congress of Vienna to form the German Confederation. Of course the moment they became independent nations was not the moment they were born. America lived with England prior to becoming an independent nation, just as Germany had lived with Prussia until he'd become a nation.

"Brother! The Awesome Me has returned!" Germany sighed, resigned to his fate. "What are you doing in here?" Prussia demanded as he entered the office. "It's lunchtime. You should be eating wurst and drinking beer."

"I ate lunch half an hour ago, brother." Germany replied.

"Don't be like that, Deutschland!" Prussia grinned and walked around the desk, his eyes falling on the piece of cardstock. "What's this, an invitation to an Amerikanisch party? Kesese! That's hilarious! You'll have to tell me how it turns out."

"I won't have to." Germany deadpanned. "The invitation was made out to both of us. Apparently you made enough impact on Amerika that he still recognizes you as a person even after you ceased to be a nation."

Prussia stared at Germany. "I'm The Awesome Me. Does Amerika need any other reason to acknowledge that I did not die when my nation dissolved?" His red eyes seemed to laugh at Germany.

Germany sighed. "Brother, generally when someone remembers you it's because you've done something to them."

Prussia grinned and sauntered towards the door. "I'm going to go find my old Teutonic Knights uniform." He paused. "What are you going to wear?"

"I think my WWII uniform would be in poor taste." Germany stated as he stood up.

"Kesese! You don't say, Deutschland!" Prussia was enjoying this.

"Perhaps I'll go through my storeroom and see if I come across anything." Germany brushed past Prussia, determined to reach the storeroom. When he reached the door he paused. _'Strange, usually brother follows me if he's been bothering me.'_ For some reason the fact Prussia hadn't followed him made him look at the door to the storeroom as though it were the reason. _'There aren't a lot of things that would make brother stop teasing me.'_ Germany shook his head. _'I need to do this. The party is in three weeks and I'd rather find a costume now then be worried about not having one.'_ With that thought Germany opened the door and descended to his basement storeroom.

The first thing to greet him was a swastika and a picture of the man who had called himself 'Führer.' Germany sat at the bottom of the steps, his face in his hands. _'There is so much death and war in my past. In WWII alone I had citizens killing other citizens as the war machine rolled throughout the world killing citizens of other countries.'_ The pain in his heart made him shake. _'This is why brother didn't follow me. He knows what horrors await in this place. Yet, I can't let that get to me. If it hadn't been for the great wars I never would have met Italy, holed up in a tomato box.'_ A small smile came to his face. _'Right, I should finally get rid of some of this trash. Starting with the swastika and the 'Führer'.'_

Germany climbed the stairs and grabbed garbage bags. Despite his determination, he paused at the door again. _'I could leave this for another day.'_ His face set into a look of grim determination. _'Nein! Do not wait until tomorrow to do something you were capable of doing today!'_ He marched down the stairs, grabbed the offensive items and put them in the bag. _'There, now I don't ever have to see them again.'_ He nodded to himself. _'Except in my dreams.'_ His mind whispered treacherously.

It was a horrible truth Germany would never admit. In his dreams an endless war waged. When it finally seemed to stop, it started again. It didn't matter what was happening. His dreams varied. Sometimes he was in a trench on the Western Front during WWI as he tried to make it to Paris. Sometimes he was fighting Russia on the Eastern Front during WWII. Occasionally he'd have a better dream where he'd be stuck on an island with Italy and Japan and Rome would sing to drive off the Allies. Sometimes France would strike him with a bayonet. _'Wait, France and a bayonet? The World Wars dominate my mind, but that image doesn't fit with the rest.'_ Germany frowned as he looked around the storeroom but whatever secrets were hidden there would not be given up easily.

A portrait of Kaiser Wilhelm II stared at him from its spot leaned against a wall. He sighed as more war memories reared their ugly, bloody heads. _'Brother will never let me get rid of this. He may have been the Kaiser, but he was also the King of Preußen.'_ Germany lifted the frame and turned it around, letting the Kaiser face the wall.

Germany spent hours down in his storeroom. Throwing away terrible reminders of the war, but not all of them. Germany stared at the few items he'd kept. _'As much as I'd like to forget the wars, I'd rather not repeat them and forgetting could lead to repeating.'_

He looked at the fruit of hours of labor sorting through chests, stacking the chests in a corner, and moving belongings around. _'This place is still so filthy. I should go upstairs and get a broom.'_ He turned towards the stairs, catching sight of something odd in the corner. _'I don't remember bringing a broom downstairs with me.'_ He picked up the brush. _'It's small as though it was made for a child.'_ In one smooth motion he swept at the floor and found the broom releasing as much dust as was stirred up from the floor. _'This is an old push broom that is doing no good. It won't ever be useful with how caked in dust it is. I should throw it away.'_

Germany moved towards his stack of items he was throwing out and held the broom over it. His hand was poised to let go but for some reason he couldn't. _'Why can't I throw you away?'_ The German thought as he brought the brush closer to inspect it. _'You really are useless and taking up space you don't need to be.'_ Yet even as he thought that he saw an image of bright brown eyes as the brush was offered to him. _'This was precious to me once? What would I want with a push broom?'_ Yet those brown eyes haunted him as he moved to put the broom down by the portrait of Wilhelm II.

"Why are you so attached to that broom?" Prussia's voice startled him causing the image of bright brown eyes to fade from Germany's mind completely. Germany looked at the broom he was holding and frowned. "It's useless. It looks like you cleaned this entire place and cleared out all the other junk. Why let this one thing stay?" Prussia asked, watching his brother closely.

Germany's hand tightened around the brush. _'Brother is right, why can't I throw it away? It's one little broom that is too old and full of dust to ever work properly. Yet the thought of throwing it away tears my heart in two.'_ Germany held the broom and looked at his brother. "This was important to me once, wasn't it?"

Prussia stared at him for a moment in silence, which was odd. Finally he sighed, "Why does it matter? Even if it was important once how can it be important now when you have forgotten why?"

Germany had no answer for his unusually serious brother. Instead he turned and set the broom next to the portrait, somehow feeling better for knowing it would be there next time he came to the room. Germany turned away from the broom and back towards his brother. "Why did you decide to come down here now?"

Prussia grinned. "Kesese! I've found my Teutonic Knights uniform and have it all ready for the party so I came to see if the brother of The Awesome Me had found any inspiration down in this depressing place!"

Germany frowned at all the mementos. He had found no costume down there. The only thing even coming close was a small black hat only big enough for a child that he'd stored in one of the chests.

"Kesese! Oh brother, you always look for impossible things in places you won't find them." Germany looked at his brother but Prussia was looking at the push broom as though it was the most important thing in that whole room. "You know what?" The grin that spread across Prussia's face was enough to make Germany wary. "I know exactly what you should wear. Though it'll have to be special made."

"What are you talking about?" Germany demanded.

Prussia only smiled. "Kesese! Oh Deutschland, before you were born your lands belonged to another nation and before they belonged to him they belonged to a completely different nation. Just because you don't remember what happened before you became Deutschland doesn't mean it's not a part of your history. Just trust your big brother. When the day of the party comes you'll have a perfect costume and no one will be able to take their eyes off of you. Kesese!"

Germany frowned. "That doesn't necessarily sound like a good thing, brother."

Prussia paused at the top of the steps. "It will be this time. The Awesome Me will be sure of it." Sadness permeated the words, but Prussia seemed to shake it off quickly. "Come on, Deutschland I'll need measurements if I'm going to order this costume!"

Germany took one last look behind him at the small old push broom and smiled softly. ' _For some reason I feel like I was supposed to find you and now that you're here I can rest peacefully.'_ Germany followed his brother up the stairs, knowing he'd be back the next day to haul the discarded items up the stairs. The thought of seeing the old push broom again put the thought of long wars far from his mind.


	4. The Maid

_'Her laugh is beautiful.'_ It was the only thought floating through the head of a small blond boy. He turned around and around, hoping to see her but she always slipped out of his vision just as he turned. Sometimes he'd get a glimpse of a green dress covered by a white apron, other times he'd see a flash of red-brown hair covered by a bandana. No matter how fast he turned she always seemed to slip away without him being able to see her and he had to see her. He had a promise to fulfill.

Germany woke with a start, tears drying on his cheeks. He'd never been one for crying. Even with the incessant dreams of war that plagued him, he didn't wake up crying. The last time he remembered doing so, before this strange girl started tormenting his dreams, was when he was still very young, before the formation of the German Confederation. Prussia would always find him and hold him until he fell back asleep, telling him stories of all the awesome things they would do together one day.

That was a long time ago, before the wars. Yet, ever since he'd cleaned his storeroom there was a little girl that haunted his dreams. She was always there laughing and singing though he'd never been able to make out the words to her song. Who was this little girl who laughed with him and ran from him in his dreams? _'I feel as though I've been chasing her for centuries.'_ The thought made him frown. _'I've only existed for two centuries. There is no way I could have chased her for centuries.'_

Germany sighed. Up until he had cleaned his storeroom two weeks ago his dreams had been of wars. He'd had them so often that he no longer woke ten times a night to make sure he was still alive. It was terrible after WWI, yet he woke to find his country at peace until one morning he woke up and WWII stared him in the face. It was his perpetual fear that he would awaken and find WWIII on his doorstep. _'In light of that past, this new dream is perplexing. How could it replace the visions of war every night? Why does this little maid bother my sleep?'_

Germany paused. "She's a maid?" He spoke, half scaring himself at the noise. _'How do I know that? It hasn't been in any of the dreams up until now.'_ He looked down at his shaking hands. _'Why does this child plague my thoughts? Why should I bother with a maid girl who is probably long dead?'_ The thought of the young girl dead made his heart clench. _'Why? Why do you matter so much? Why can't I forget about you?'_

Germany got up from his bed. It was a little early to be up but he knew sleep wouldn't find him again. He changed clothes and went outside for a run. The exertion was thankfully enough to get the girl out of his head, though brought back other memories. _'Italien used to hate early morning runs like this.'_ Germany chuckled. _'For some reason WWII seems like yesterday, with all the blood and explosions.'_ He sobered. _'I'll never forget the look on Japan's face when his land was bombed. I thought he was actually dying and would never recover.'_

The image of Japan crumpled to the ground would never leave him. It was seared into his mind in a way that nothing else ever had been. The little girl's laughter flitted through his head then and disrupted his thoughts of Japan. Brown eyes seemed to laugh at him and he stopped running midstride, ending up falling onto his ass. _'Brown eyes, the maid had brown eyes.'_ The revelation did little to comfort the German nation as he slowly got back onto his feet. _'I came outside to forget about her. The little dead maid from centuries past.'_ The pain in his chest appeared suddenly. _'Maybe I've overexerted myself. I should head back home.'_

The house loomed in front of him. _'This is odd. I've never thought my home was imposing before.'_ Yet there it stood, bathed in the light of the slowly rising sun and looking like the last place Germany would ever wish to enter. _'This is silly. It is my house.'_ He approached the house and went inside.

"You were out early." Prussia's voice was entirely unexpected.

"I couldn't sleep so I decided to go out for a run." Germany realized he sounded defensive even to his own ears.

"Kesese! My little brother is running from something." Prussia had a knowing grin on his face. "Or maybe he's running to something." He tilted his head to the side. "You're not about to go to war again, are you?"

Germany scowled. "Nein. I don't want to return to that madness again, especially since it ended not that long ago."

Prussia listened to the forceful words and a nostalgic smile graced his lips. "You really have grown up, haven't you, Deutschland?" Then he grinned in a way that made Germany nervous. "Kesese! Your costume arrived yesterday."

Trepidation washed over Germany. "Why do you say that with such a gleeful smile, brother?"

Prussia ignored the question. "Would you like to try it on?"

Germany wanted to say no, but instead he followed his brother up the stairs and into Prussia's bedroom. A box sat on the floor and Prussia moved it the bed. "Put these on." Prussia stated as he pulled out a pair of white stockings, grey breeches, and a black tunic.

They looked familiar and yet Germany had no memory of ever seeing them before. The conflicting ideas made him sigh as he shed his running clothes and pulled on these strange garments. He looked at Prussia and found him holding out a pair of black boots. Germany pulled them on.

Prussia walked behind him and draped a black cloak over his shoulders. When Germany turned around to look at Prussia, he found the man holding a black hat and smiling at Germany as though he'd finally come home after a long war. "Kesese. Deutschland, you look magnificent." He then reached over and set the hat on Germany's head.

Germany chose to ignore the fact his brother's eyes were misting over. "Do you have a mirror in here?" He demanded of his brother.

"It's rude to be so demanding, brother." Prussia frowned and went to pick up a small hand mirror. "This is all I have."

Germany looked in the mirror. _'I can only see my face. This hat covering my forehead feels strange, yet in the mirror it looks so natural. As though it was always meant to be this way.'_

"We forgot the cravat of course." Prussia's voice startled Germany out of his musings. "I didn't figure you would want to arrange the cloth since you're just going to take the costume off anyway."

Germany looked at Prussia. "Thank you, brother. I never would have been able to come up with this costume on my own."

"Kesese! You're right. You never would have come up with anything as Awesome as that costume. Now take it off before you get it too sweaty and gross."

Germany sighed and did as his brother bid. _'I suppose I should shower.'_ Yet the image of him wearing the hat stuck in his brain.

* * *

 _'Her laugh is beautiful.'_ It was the only thought floating through the head of a small blond boy. He turned around and around, hoping to see her but she always slipped out of his vision just as he turned. Sometimes he'd get a glimpse of a green dress covered by a white apron, other times he'd see a flash of red-brown hair covered by a bandana. No matter how fast he turned she always seemed to slip away without him being able to see her and he had to see her.

He reached out his arm, half surprised to see it clad in a black cloak. He looked down and a hat slid off his head as he saw grey breaches and black boots. The hat. Something was very familiar about the hat. He reached down to pick it up only to find another set of hands already there. He was shaking as he looked up into brown eyes.

The girl smiled at him and picked up the hat. "Here," she said, offering the hat to him. Her voice was the most beautiful sound the boy had ever heard. He blushed, grabbing the hat and for some reason he turned and ran away. "Wait!" She called, but he had already turned the corner and gone.

He stood shaking, eyes shut as he wondered why he always ran. He ran towards her when she couldn't see him but the second she looked at him he ran from her. It had always been this way and he never regretted it more than this moment. He opened his eyes and saw the painting of his wonderful maid. He would miss her. His men took the painting and put it on the wagon after telling him paintings took to much space. _'Everything is ready.'_ He thought, trying to pretend he wasn't going to leave the girl who'd stolen his heart.

As if summoned by the thought, there she was holding a bucket of water. She smiled, setting her bucket down. "Good Morning!" She called, running over to him.

He felt as though his heart was breaking in two. He wanted to leave without seeing her to avoid this pain. "Stop! Why do you follow me when I run away, even though you run away when I follow?" There was an adorable look of confusion on her face, but the boy managed to ignore it. He felt as though half of his heart was held by this girl and the other half was filled with dread as it beat in his chest. "There's something I need to tell you. I'm sorry for everything. This is goodbye, so you don't have to worry anymore."

The girl looked so sad, but the soldiers had turned. "Sir, everything is ready. We should leave." The boy nodded, turning to go. He managed to make it to the gates of the estate but was stopped by a cry.

"Wait!~" She called, running after him. "I'll give this to you." She held out her push broom, the one she was always carrying in his fondest memories of her. "Take it with you and remember me."

He walked to her and took the broom. "Thank you." He was shaking slightly as he held it, knowing this token meant she cared for him. "I should give you something in return. What do people do in your country to show they care for one another?"

"They… kiss." She replied cutely.

He felt his face warm up at the thought of kissing her, but he wouldn't run away this time. It was a short, innocent kiss, but as he pulled away he whispered, "I have loved you since the tenth century."

She smiled, but a tear fell down her face. "I'm so happy."

He knew she didn't want him to leave and he needed to say something. "I have to go now, but when this war is over I promise I'll return to you."

"I'll wait. I'll wait for centuries if I have to." It was such a sweet promise and it made him smile.

"I will come back and you will always be the person I love the most." He promised her and then turned and left with his soldiers, feeling happier in that moment than he ever remembered being in the past.

Germany woke with a start. _"I will come back and you will always be the person I love the most."_ The words echoed in his mind. _'Who is she? These dreams have been plaguing me for the last three weeks, but this is the first time I saw her face.'_ He sat up in bed, his head immediately going to rest in his hands. _'The dreams are so vivid they might as well be memories, but if they are memories then I broke a promise a long time ago.'_ He sat quietly for another moment then sighed and got out of the bed.

 _'Perhaps taking a nap before Amerikas party was a bad idea.'_ He walked into the restroom attached to his hotel room and splashed water on his face. Jet lag had caught up with him shortly after lunch and he'd decided to take a nap before America's party. Yet, as he dried his face, Germany replayed the dream in his mind. _'Why? Why can't I let this girl go? Why is she so important? The very picture of her giving me her broom tears me in two.'_ Germany stopped drying his face. _'Her push broom. She gave it the boy.'_ His hands shook as he put the towel down and looked at himself in the mirror. _'It's the brush I found in my basement right before these dreams started plaguing me.'_

The figure in the mirror stared back at him, the same as it had ever since he was a young boy waking up in Prussia's house with no memory of his past. _'Who am I?'_ Germany had thought he'd known. In all of his memories there had never been any doubt that he was anyone other than Germany. Now, as he looked in the mirror he wondered if he'd ever known anything about himself. _'I wonder who would know who I am.'_ An image of sparkling brown eyes filled his mind's eye. _'The maid would know, but she would only have answers for me if she was a country and I don't remember any country who looks like she did.'_

Germany's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone from the other room. He turned away from the mirror and went to find his phone. It was buried under blankets on his bed.

 **Are you almost ready, little brother?** Read the text from Prussia.

Germany groaned, forcing the dream to the back of his mind. _'I didn't realize I'd slept so long.'_ He thought as he went over to his suitcase and pulled out his costume.

The black hat seemed to mock him as he pulled on the rest of the costume quickly. He clasped the cloak around his shoulders and picked it up. _'What was Preußen thinking, having me dress up in such a way?'_ He wondered as he picked up his phone.

 **I'll meet you in the lobby.** He texted in response to Prussia. _'This night is sure to be interesting, since I'm dressed in an outfit I remember and don't at the same time.'_ Germany sighed and headed towards the door.

* * *

Germany stood in the ballroom where America was holding his end of summer party, a feeling of trepidation in the pit of his stomach. As soon as he'd entered the room he'd been greeted by looks of shock from Austria and Hungary. However, when he'd tried to approach them the disappeared into the crowd.

"Come on, brother, have a little fun!" Prussia grinned at him. "It's not like the night will end terribly. Kesese!"

Germany frowned at him. "I'm starting to second guess my decision to wear the costume you picked out for me."

"Why? The Awesome Me always knows what I'm doing. Wearing that costume was the most Awesome decision you could have made! Kesese!" Prussia decreed and then laughed.

"Austria and Hungary are avoiding me, Spanien looked terrified when he saw me, and I don't even want to picture the reactions other nations might have when they see me." Germany all but hissed at his brother.

Prussia's grin did not fade. "It's going to be fine, Deutschland. You worry too much. Kesese!" A spark seemed to flicker in his eyes. "You should go find your friends. I'm sure Japan and Italien will be happy to see you."

Germany studied his brother for a potential ulterior motive but could not find answers in Prussia's countenance or in his own mind. "It would be nice to see Italien again." Germany murmured, remembering the last time he'd seen the nation. _'That world meeting went horribly. England and Frankreich yelled at each other over past mistakes and they hurt Italien so much when they mentioned the long dead Heiliges Römisches Reich.'_ The thought of what the mere mention of the Holy Roman Empire had done to Italy made his skin crawl. _'That was three months ago, though. I'm sure Italien is doing a lot better now.'_

Germany moved away from his brother without another word, looking for the pasta-loving nation. As he moved through the crowd he could see that some people looked confused at his outfit while others were staring in what appeared to be shock and horror. _'Perhaps I should find an older nation and ask them why everyone is looking at me in such a way.'_ Germany could not see Spain, Austria, or Hungary in the crowd and since their reactions had been the most severe thus far, he figured they would have answers.

As he searched for any of the strangely acting nations or Italy, whichever he found first, he spotted England and France by the buffet table. France was wearing what appeared to be some sort of Cupid costume, looking pleased with himself, until he noticed Germany that is. As soon as France's eyes caught sight of Germany, his skin rapidly began to pale and it looked like the older nation was going to faint. England noticed the state of his companion and frowned as he looked for the cause. When England saw Germany, he suddenly looked about ready to murder something.

Germany knew he should leave as soon as he saw England's furious expression but he wanted answers. Against his better judgment he approached the duo. "Good evening, England and Frankreich. How are you on this evening?"

England had grabbed France's arm and appeared to be the only reason France had yet to collapse. "I was bloody spectacular until you showed up." England snapped. "Why the hell are you wearing _that_ , Germany?" He emphasized the word and gestured to Germany's outfit. "You really should have known better, especially after the last world meeting."

"Allamagne?" Whispered France. His voice sounded distant. "I could have sworn I saw a ghost."

England looked at his companion. "It's all right, France. It's just Germany playing a cruel joke on us all."

Germany frowned. "Most people don't seem confused when they see me, but occasionally there is an extreme reaction. Why is that?"

England's fury seemed to increase, if such a thing was possible. "You should have thought about that before you decided to dress up as _him_." He bit out, grabbing France's arm with more force than necessary. "Come on, France. Let's find you a chair before your legs give out." England left Germany standing in silence, staring blankly at the place formerly occupied by the two nations.

 _'Perhaps I should find Preußen and tell him I'm leaving. I seem to have stirred up some emotions that I do not understand.'_ Germany turned and wandered off to find his brother. _'There are so many people. I can't see brother anywhere.'_ He frowned and then he saw a green dress out of the corner of his eye. Time seemed to freeze as he turned in the direction where _she_ was.

Austria and Hungary were standing in front of her, facing the German. Even though her back was to Germany he knew it was she. Austria and Hungary seemed to be arguing with her and as soon as Hungary caught sight of Germany, she reached out to grab the maid's arm. Unfortunately for Hungary, the maid had noticed the discomfort of her companions and had turned to see why they were so upset.

The maid had only changed a little. She still wore her green dress with an apron over it. Her hair was still short and covered by a bandana, with that one untamable curl on the left side of her head. Germany felt as though a bucket of water had been tossed over him. _'Italien. The maid is Italien.'_ Panic filled him and he looked for a place to go. There was an open door that led to the gardens not far from him. Someone moved and Germany had a clear path. In that moment his instincts took over and he ran from Italy.

"Wait!~" Italy called, though that only made Germany run faster.

People were turning to look and the shock of seeing Germany running from Italy seemed to have them frozen in place. Out of the corner of his eye, Germany saw Spain grab Romano and hold the Italian back, despite the fight the younger man was putting up.

Germany reached the door and plunged out into the humid night. He was not sure how far he ran into America's gardens, only knowing that there were sounds behind him that indicated he was being chased. Germany finally stopped at an arch covered in climbing roses. There was a bench underneath it and he collapsed onto it. _'Why? Why did this happen?'_ The sight of Italy's brown eyes opening fully when the smaller man had caught sight of Germany seemed seared onto his corneas.

"Why do you run away when I follow, even though you follow when I run away?" Germany recognized the parody of the words his younger self had spoken to Italy in his dream and slowly looked up to see the crying Italian.

"Why do you follow me when I run away, even though you run away when I follow?" Germany repeated the words that he had said centuries past.

Italy started shaking with sobs. "Santo Roma!~" He cried, taking a few more steps and then flinging himself onto Germany.

Germany could not move as he registered the familiar name. The name of whom, upon being mentioned at a world meeting, had caused Italy so much pain. In that moment Germany realized the truth, though he did not remember his past.

All Germany could do was to wrap his arms around his Italy. They sat for a while, the only noise being Italy's sobs. Germany said no words of comfort, too wrapped up in the realization of who he had been years ago.

"I waited for you." The words were spoken once Italy's sobs had turned into sniffles. "I waited for two centuries after they said you were dead. I waited like I promised even though I knew you probably weren't coming back."

The normally sparkling brown eyes were bright with tears. Some hair had slipped out of the bandana and Germany swept it out of Italy's face with shaking hands. His mouth was dry and he wasn't sure what to say. Instead he blurted out the first words that came to mind. "I finally kept my promise, Italien. I came back and you have always been the one I've loved the most."

The words brought a smile to Italy's tear streaked face. "It's been so long, Santo Roma." His voice was rough from the tears but to the grown Holy Roman Empire it sounded just as musical as it had when they were younger.

Germany knew there were explanations to be made, to all the nations who were hurt when he appeared dressed as a supposedly dead nation but especially to Italy who had waited so long. In that moment those responsibilities were present, but when Germany spoke it was not an apology that fell from his lips. "I have loved you since the tenth century."


End file.
